


an introspection on the experience of newfound sentience

by butchlesbianartemis



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Major spoilers for 167. Like bro big big spoilers. I got real introspective over a gd ship, like a literal ship.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:41:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26122882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butchlesbianartemis/pseuds/butchlesbianartemis
Summary: What is consciousness? Is it memories and emotions or something more? How does one remember if they have no way to store memories, let alone recall them? Does one's memory remain after death? Can a literal ship brought to life by magic have memories?? Idk ask ajn, im just vibing with the possibilities.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 17





	an introspection on the experience of newfound sentience

Self-aware existence is hard. It's overwhelming and terrifying and exhausting all at once. It is even harder to reconcile when this sentience is forced upon you all at once from out of nowhere. 

When the ship first comes to life, it is bombarded by hundreds of thousands of memories, though they aren't memories in the usual sense. The ship has no eyes to see, no ears to hear, no brain to truly remember, and yet it has a current of scenes and feelings and sense-memories running through its hull. 

Some of these memories are pulled to the forefront of the ship's consciousness as it becomes more aware of itself and its inhabitants. 

A man stands at its deck, one that catches the ship's attention first. He is a short man, and as the ship regards him more closely, a flurry of memories are invoked within it. It "sees" all at once that very same man standing upon its deck, though this memory is tattered, as if it had been shredded and stitched back together with pieces missing. In the memory, the man looks different, namely his legs and beard being different all together. But there is a bigger difference than simply appearance; in this memory, the man is not alone. 

The ship feels itself being pulled through a chain of memories, all tattered, but all carrying a sense of pride and confidence that it knows it has not felt in quite some time. The memories depict an odd group aboard its vessel, in various scenes of course, but ultimately together. As the ship regards the man again, another memory surges forward, this time of the man and another, taller man. A sense of annoyance twinges at the back of its newfound mind at the thought of this ostentatious looking man, and it is quickly replaced with amusement as it remembers the man now overboard and scuttling up its hull pathetically.

The ship is jarred from its memories by its own form being tugged to one side, a sense of wrongness accompanying the adjustment. It suddenly becomes aware that it has been flying itself, though the realization is akin to realizing one has been breathing. All it knows is that this is its purpose; its entire reason for existing is to fly its crew to their desired location. No matter what, it must serve its crew and get them where they need to go.

In an older mind, memories could be ignored or set to play in the background. But in a new mind, memories with a strong emotional connection are overpowering. The memory that overtakes the ship is nearly overpowering. 

It is a broken memory, one seen in shards and splinters rather than fully connected. Instinctively, it begins to tie itself down, to keep itself as safe as it can be. The memory replays over and over, locking the ship in its terror. All it can think is dragon, crew, death. Over and over and over. 

Then something stirs within its hull, and its attention is snapped inwards. It prepares itself to see devastation and ruin, or the root of its fear nestled within its bunks. What it sees instead are a sleeping pack of crew members. Its ability to see the group is blurry, but it can make out nearly all of the members. 

It recognizes the tall one first, who rebuilt it with such care and love, evokes a sense of protectiveness and fondness that feels new and fierce. Then it makes out the tiny dragons, who trigger a quick flurry of panic and fear before it remembers those scaled paws fixing it alongside the tall one and their forms curdled up within its den, and the fear subsides, replaced by a vague fondness.

Then it sees its captain within the pile, and the emotions that run through its form are as conflicted as they are fierce. Adoration and hatred clash in its wooden hull, protectiveness and anger thrash its ropes up on deck. She wasn’t the cause of her prior crews' deaths, sure. But she was willing to send this crew to their deaths as well, willing to let it fall out of the sky again, all for revenge. It wants with all its being to grab her and crush her, both in an embrace and in an act of retribution. But it doesn't. It sees the sleeping faces of its crew, feels its sense of duty thrum within its form, and it pulls the ropes that had moved towards the captain's feet away and back to where they belong. 

Its duty is to the crew. To their safety and and their journey. It will keep them warm and safe until they reach their destination. But it will not let itself die again, not while its consciousness remains.


End file.
